First, before leaving Vegas, we decided to do as much shopping online as possible, only buying what was absolutely necessary in person. To start, the three of us scoured Vegas, bought every reloadable credit card we could find, and maxed them out until we had a million dollars in credit. Then, we sat down at the computers and started ordering. I had to help Al with some shopping sites; he was okay with phones but still got a bit confused with computers. He got the hang of it, eventually.

Because some orders came from overseas, we had to stay in Vegas for another week until everything arrived, even with express delivery. I didn't want huge orders piling up at the hotel, so I rented a warehouse for the week, and we scheduled rotations to stay there and receive shipments—with the necessary conjured documents, of course. We ordered most of the tools we needed, books, craft supplies, music, and movies, which we downloaded directly to a crystalline disk, fabrics for the boat and the balloon, spare parts for all our toys, and much more.

We went all out with our metal wire order, ensuring we had every thickness and type. Mahya also insisted on buying ingots of every metal available on Earth in large quantities. So, we ordered aluminum, iron, steel, copper, bronze, titanium, silver, gold, nickel, platinum, tungsten, zinc, magnesium, lithium, cobalt, lead, palladium, rhodium, chromium, manganese, tin, vanadium, beryllium, hafnium, iridium, osmium, ruthenium, scandium, tantalum, and niobium.

I didn't even know what half of them were, but Mahya was adamant we needed them all, and I had long since learned not to argue.

We ordered five million paintballs with extra guns, all the photography supplies I needed, office supplies, parchment from wherever we could find it, and all their inventory. We also bought out-of-circulation coins by weight from Etsy, eBay, and Amazon. The coins alone totaled around one and a half tons in hundreds of separate shipments.

After deleting all the online shopping from our original list, it looked more manageable. The only things left on the list were items we wanted to buy personally, such as clothes and shoes, most heavy equipment, like furniture and work surfaces, weapons, tires, and alcohol.

Next, we raided the stores in Vegas and bought another sizeable chunk of the list, including emptying five liquor stores, and I bought a massive stock of coffee. Before leaving Earth for the first time, I bought a lot of coffee, thinking it would last me for years. But with Lis at the beginning and then as the group grew, everyone discovered that coffee was great, and my stock dropped to less than five percent of the original purchase. This time, I bought coffee online and in person, aiming to stock up on enough coffee to last five people for a hundred years. I also made a mental note to buy more coffee wherever we stopped on the way to Canada.

You can never have too much coffee.

We discovered two unsettling facts as we delved into the whirlwind of shopping and research. The first was a real bummer: there were some truly incredible pieces of armor on the market. Gear that could probably stop a cannonball—or at least looked the part—but we couldn't even get close to buying it. Turns out, you need to be military or law enforcement to access that tier of protection. Not even conjured documents, which had worked wonders for us in the past, could crack that code. It wasn't just a dead end; it was a reinforced concrete wall.

The second revelation connected the dots of a story I'd only half-heard years ago. Back in 2026, after the second pandemic hit and the riots that followed turned parts of the U.S. into chaos zones, gun laws in the country underwent a seismic shift. I'd overheard murmurs about it while in London—some newscaster droning on in the background—but it hadn't felt relevant at the time. Now, it was front and center, staring me down. A few states still clung to their looser firearm laws, but they were on the far side of the country, entirely out of our way.

By 2029, those changes in U.S. policy had rippled outwards, prompting the introduction of international firearm regulations. The result? Buying anything firearm-related online had become a pipe dream. Ammo, parts, accessories—it was all locked behind an impenetrable screen of red tape. You could scour the internet all you wanted, but unless you were willing to jump through legal hoops the size of the moon, you'd come up empty-handed every time. For us, with our journey already mapped and time pressing down like a weight, this was just another avenue firmly closed.

We had seventy-four guns in our stash, and Mahya insisted we needed at least half a million rounds to feel comfortable. I couldn't blame her, but after hours of scouring the internet and coming up short, it became clear that assembling that kind of stockpile would be impossible. So, I suggested something that I knew would rattle her: ditch the guns and focus on handguns. They were slightly easier to buy in the U.S. since the laws were a bit more relaxed, and the ammo was more accessible. Plus, we could still use conjured documents to get around some of the red tape.

Mahya's reaction was immediate. She froze, staring at me like I'd suggested burning her entire collection. Then, without saying a word, she picked up one rifle and started stroking it, whispering softly to it like a mother soothing a distressed child. She was trembling. This went on for a solid two minutes before she finally calmed down, still cradling the gun as if it had feelings. Needless to say, the idea of letting go of her babies wouldn't fly anytime soon.

She turned puppy-dog eyes on me, her lower lip sticking out just a little, and said, "You've got that Luck trait. I'm sure you can find some." Her voice was soft, pleading, the kind of tone that always hit me in the weak spot. She knew what she was doing, and I hated how well it worked.

I leaned against the hood of the jeep, folding my arms. "Come on, Mahya. You know this is a long shot. We're talking about half a million rounds—ammo isn't just sitting around in bulk for anyone to grab. Even if I can find some, there's a ton of risk. We're already pushing it." I tried to sound firm, but even I didn't fully believe it.

She kept staring at me, eyes wide, brimming with hope. I looked away, trying to steel myself, but damn it, Mahya had a way of making me give in. She didn't need to say anything else; I could already feel my resolve slipping. The silence stretched between us, and I could almost hear the gears turning in my head, weighing the risk against the inevitable, reluctant 'yes' that was coming.

I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Alright, alright... But I'm not happy about this. You owe me big time for this one."

Mahya's face lit up instantly, like I'd just told her Christmas came early. "Thank you!" she squealed, and I could hear the relief in her voice. I waved her off before she could make it worse by hugging me or something.

With another resigned sigh, I climbed into the jeep and slammed the door. "Let's get this over with," I muttered to myself, already regretting the decision as I activated my Luck. The familiar pull in my gut immediately kicked in, pointing me in a direction, and I followed it, knowing full well that it was leading me somewhere I wouldn't like.

The drive stretched on for over an hour, with the sun dipping lower as I passed the city limits. As the instinctual pull led me toward the outskirts of Vegas, the roads grew quieter, and the buildings became more spaced out until I eventually reached my destination.

The warehouse stood like a fortress in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by desert and dust. It was large, bigger than any regular storage facility. What really caught my attention, though, were the guards. They were everywhere—dozens of them, maybe more—patrolling the perimeter with military precision. They all carried what looked like top-grade weapons, but it wasn't just the hardware that made them stand out. Tattoos covered all of them, and they were practically dripping with gold jewelry. Chains, rings, bracelets—each looked more like gangsters than your typical hired security.

I pulled the jeep to a stop a good distance away and cut the engine. From here, I could see the guards enough to know this wasn't just some casual warehouse operation. These guys were serious, and if Luck had led me here, it probably would not be easy getting out.

"Fantastic," I muttered, my eyes scanning the scene, knowing I was about to dive headfirst into trouble.

I doubted conjured documents would help, so I sat there thinking of a solution. My first thought was to use Spellbinding, but the only time I used it made me feel so dirty and slimy that I didn't want to repeat the experience. I wasn't a saint—after all, I didn't hesitate to "milk" Caesar's Casino, nor did I feel bad about robbing my in-laws—but taking away a person's power of choice and mentally controlling someone felt wrong.

After some hesitation and deliberation, I decided to go inside while invisible. Taking a deep breath, I cast the invisibility spell and slipped out of the jeep. Moving silently, I approached the warehouse, carefully avoiding the guards patrolling the perimeter. Their footsteps echoed in the quiet night, but I glided past them, raising no suspicion.

Reaching the warehouse door, I examined the security system. It was a heavy-duty electronic system, but nothing I couldn't handle. A channeling of mana into the system, and the door clicked open. I slipped inside, and the door closed softly behind me.

The warehouse was dimly lit and filled with rows of pallets, crates, and shelves stacked high with supplies. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of oil. I moved cautiously, aware that any noise could give me away. My Luck was still active, guiding me deeper into the building.

As I navigated through the maze, I noticed a staircase leading down. Bingo. The feeling grew stronger, almost tugging me towards it. I descended the steps, careful to keep my footsteps light and inaudible.

The underground part of the warehouse was even more impressive. Shelves lined the walls with weapons, ammunition, and various equipment. My eyes widened at the sight—this was an arsenal. My Luck tugged me to crates marked with the distinctive labeling of M4 carbine ammunition, which was precisely what Mahya wanted.

Still invisible, I moved toward the crates, checking for any signs of an alarm or other security measures. There were none that I could see at first glance, but I couldn't afford to be careless.

I quickly stored all the boxes. Then, out of habit more than anything, I pulled out a neat stack of ten thousand dollars and placed it on the shelf where the boxes had been.

As I walked toward the exit, my steps slowed, and I stopped in the vast space. Surrounded by crates of ammunition, I glanced back at the place I'd just cleared out. A nagging thought crept in. Mahya. I could picture her face right now, eyebrows raised, lips pressed into that thin line, a look that said, "Really? You were in a massive armory and didn't bring me anything?" She'd never forgive me for that.

I groaned and turned back, scanning the area. Maybe I could grab her a couple of extra toys—just to avoid that wrath.

But curiosity got the better of me as I moved closer to one of the larger crates. I cracked open a box, my hands working fast but carefully. Inside, I found what looked like standard packing—stacks of ammunition, neatly lined up. But something felt off. I sifted through the top layer, pulling aside the bullets, and that's when I saw it: packages. Not just any packages—wrapped tight, with no labels. I tore one open with a pocketknife. Sure enough, I discovered it was filled with white powder. Drugs.

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A sinking feeling settled in my gut, quickly replaced by a kind of bitter amusement. Of course, it wasn't just a warehouse full of bullets. This was a full-blown criminal operation. A smuggling ring, maybe worse. The guards, the tattoos, the gold chains. It all clicked into place. No wonder the security was so tight. They weren't just protecting ammo; they were running drugs too.

I couldn't help but smirk. Suddenly, I felt a lot better about what I was doing here. Sure, I might've been sneaking around, grabbing things that didn't technically belong to me, but robbing a bunch of criminals? That was different. That didn't sting the conscience nearly as much. If anything, I was doing the world a favor, right?

Sighing again, I deployed my mana sense, walking up and down the rows and storing all the inventory in the warehouse, including my ten thousand. The process was nerve-wracking, each second stretching as I listened for any sound of approaching guards. After the underground part was empty, I went back up to the ground floor and repeated the operation. I didn't know what was in all the boxes and crates, but I was sure Mahya would approve.

The tension was almost unbearable. Every creak of the floor, every distant shout or clang from outside made my heart race. My Luck was holding steady, but even I knew it could only stretch so far before it snapped. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the warehouse looked like an empty space for rent, completely cleared out. I'd even taken the shelves—after all, I needed something to store all the boxes on once I got back. In fact, I had to enlarge my Storage twice just to fit everything.

To leave some semblance of honor, I placed five hundred thousand dollars in cash in a big backpack, placed the backpack in the center of the space, and crept out. Maybe they were criminals, but I needed to feel okay with myself.

The guards outside were still patrolling, oblivious to the heist happening right under their noses. I held my breath, moving silently, my invisibility spell still in place. Reaching the door, I slipped through and made my way back to the jeep. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, making every step feel like I was walking on air.

Back in the jeep, I deactivated my invisibility and allowed myself a slight grin. Mission accomplished. It was time to return and show Mahya what I'd found.

I called Al and Mahya and told them to come to the warehouse. When I told them about my "heist," They laughed and called me a Looter Extraordinaire.

Yay me!

It took us two days to go through the whole content, and oh boy, it was a doozy:

From the Underground Space:

Boxes of rounds of M4 carbine ammunition

Boxes of rounds of 9mm handgun ammunition

Boxes of rounds of .50 caliber sniper rifle ammunition

Several cases of shotgun shells (12 gauge)

Boxes of hollow-point bullets for various calibers

Hundreds of rounds of .45 ACP ammunition

Cases of .223 Remington ammunition

Assorted exotic ammunition (tracer rounds, incendiary rounds)

Dozens of Glock 19 handguns

Multiple AK-47 rifles

Several Remington 870 shotguns

A few Barrett M82 sniper rifles

A crate of SIG Sauer P320 handguns

Uzi submachine guns

Desert Eagle pistols

Several AR-15 rifles

Cases of C4 plastic explosives

Several crates of fragmentation grenades

A few boxes of smoke grenades

Flashbang grenades

Stick grenades

Claymore mines

Improvised explosive devices (IEDs)

Bulletproof vests and tactical body armor

Kevlar helmets

Night vision goggles

Tactical gloves and boots

Communication radios

Tactical belts and holsters

Gas masks

Riot shields

Suppressors (silencers) for various firearms

Red dot sights and scopes

Tactical flashlights and laser sights

Extended magazines

Bipods and grips

Bayonets

Muzzle brakes and compensators

Gun cleaning kits

Spare parts for firearms (springs, firing pins, etc.)

Weapon lubricants and solvents

Toolkits for disassembling and repairing weapons

Armor repair kits

Electronic repair kits

Two crates with bundles of cash (various denominations) totaling $615, 954

A few small crates containing gold bars and silver ingots

A big bag of precious gems and jewelry

Rare coins and stamps

Antique firearms and collectibles

Fake passports and identification documents

Laptops and encrypted hard drives

Burner phones and SIM cards

Surveillance equipment

Drones and remote-control devices

Hacking tools and software

Multiple kilos of cocaine

Boxes of methamphetamine

Several crates of marijuana

Bottles of prescription pills

A lot of heroin

Ecstasy tablets

LSD blotters

Spare tires and vehicle parts

Fuel canisters

GPS tracking devices

Toolkits for vehicle repair

Motorcycles and ATV parts for over thirty different models and makes

Jet skis

Dismantled engines

From the Ground Floor:

Boxes of assorted sex toys

Adult DVDs and magazines

Fetish gear and bondage equipment

Inflatable dolls

Erotic costumes

A pallet of sex lube

A pallet of Trojan condoms in various sizes

A crate of fidget spinners

Novelty gag gifts

Cases of rubber chickens

High-end kitchen appliances

Designer clothing and accessories

Luxury watches and handbags

Crates of vintage wine

High-end electronics (TVs, game consoles)

Rare comic books and memorabilia

Cases of imported champagne

Bulk packages of energy drinks

Protein bars and supplements

Exotic spices and dry cooking ingredients

High-end coffee beans

Cigars and tobacco products

A crate of whoopee cushions

Boxes of fake mustaches and glasses

Hundreds of rubber duckies

Inflatable unicorn pool floats

Life-size cardboard cutouts of Elvis Presley

Boxes of novelty toilet paper with jokes printed on it

A collection of garden gnomes in various outfits

An assortment of kazoos and harmonicas

A giant hamster wheel for humans

A mechanical bull

Several cases of prank candy that tasted terrible

A crate of glow-in-the-dark paint

Life-size dinosaur costumes

A dozen mannequins dressed in 80s fashion

Boxes of "World's Best Boss" mugs

Inflatable sumo wrestling suits

A collection of haunted house props (fake blood, skeletons, etc.)

Several disco balls and party lights

A box of talking fish wall plaques

Dozens of oversized novelty sunglasses

A giant inflatable gorilla

A collection of rubber stamps with funny sayings

A set of velvet Elvis paintings

Boxes of fake dog poop

Several crates of wind-up chattering teeth

A box of novelty oversized foam fingers

Hundreds of plastic flamingos

A crate of moon shoes (mini-trampolines for your feet)

Several sets of novelty license plates (e.g., "I LUV MY CAT")

Three life-size replicas of a UFO

A giant slingshot for launching water balloons

Boxes of "invisible ink" pens

A crate of singing birthday cards

A collection of bobblehead dolls in bizarre outfits

Several crates of "grow-your-own" chia pets

A collection of novelty beach towels with funny sayings

Boxes of novelty toilet paper that tell your fortune

A collection of garden gnomes in various states of existential crisis

Boxes of "World's Most Average Employee" trophies

A set of sandpaper Einstein sculptures

Hundreds of origami penguins

A collection of garden gnomes dressed as famous movie characters

Life-size dinosaur costumes with realistic roaring action

A crate of singing birthday cards that never stop singing

Boxes of smartphones

Pallets of DVDs and CDs

A crate of luxury watches

Stacks of passports and IDs

Boxes of stolen credit cards

Pallets of imported cigarettes

Crates of software

Artwork in secure packaging

Pallets of electronics (laptops, tablets, etc.)

Pallets of pharmaceuticals

Car parts (airbags, catalytic converters, etc.)

Boxes of books

Pallets of designer clothing

Boxes of industrial equipment

Pallets of toys

Crates of copper wire

Pallets of power tools

Crates of cosmetics

Boxes of vintage wines

Pallets of video games

Crates of bicycle parts

Boxes of sports memorabilia

Pallets of office supplies

Pallets of auto parts

Crates of scientific equipment

Pallets of designer sunglasses

Crates of perfumes

Pallets of software

Crates of camera equipment

Boxes of sporting goods

Pallets of household appliances

A box of prescription pads

Boxes of rare metals

Pallets of safety equipment

Crates of industrial chemicals

Pallets of computer components

Crates of designer shoes

Pallets of imported alcohol

Crates of construction materials

Boxes of designer belts and accessories

Pallets of art supplies

Crates of medical supplies

Pallets of baby products—7 pallets of diapers

Crates of automotive diagnostic equipment

Crates of electronic accessories

Pallets of textbooks

Crates of industrial robots

Pallets of designer fabrics

Crates of military surplus gear

Boxes of high-end audio equipment

Pallets of home security systems

Pallets of designer kitchenware

Crates of car accessories

Two pallets of plates with the MGM Grand logo

Boxes of beads

Blank wedding invitations

Orthopedic neck pillows

Vacuum cleaners

A pallet with boxes of party decorations and balloons

A pallet with boxes of disposable tableware and cutlery

Boxes of paper napkins that looked fancy

A pallet of small bottles of shampoo, liquid soap, and body lotion with the Wynn Las Vegas logo

Hello Kitty pajamas in all sizes

Dinosaur bubble handheld bubble machines

Disney McQueen Pixar cartoon slippers

Dancing and talking cactus toys

Smart trashcans with a sensor

A box of rare seeds

Pallets of surveillance equipment

Crates of industrial molds and dies

Boxes of sports equipment

Pallets of designer light fixtures

Crates of satellite phones

Boxes of vintage movie posters

Pallets of pet products

Pallets of high-end camping gear

Boxes of collectible action figures

Pallets of Barbie dolls, barbie outfits, and houses

Boxes of casino chips for over ten casinos that looked real, totaling $378,520

A pallet of Vegas showgirls' outfits with a lot of feathers

A crate of rubber chickens wearing superhero costumes

Boxes of inflatable bananas and palm trees

Several cases of glow-in-the-dark bubble wands

A collection of talking parrot toys that mimic everything they hear

A giant inflatable dinosaur with LED lights

A crate of voice-changing megaphones

Hundreds of plastic flamingos dressed as various historical figures

A life-size mannequin dressed as a wizard with glowing eyes

Several crates of edible glitter and glow-in-the-dark candy

Boxes of edible body paint

A giant inflatable slide shaped like a dragon

A collection of medieval knight armor replicas

Several crates of prank spring-loaded snakes in a can

A box of holographic projector devices

A giant inflatable unicorn costume with sound effects

After we finished going through all the loot, we just sat there, stunned.

I glanced at Mahya, who had a wide grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Look at all these guns and ammunition!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. "And the electronics! This is incredible! Half of it can be broken down and used as parts for Magitech." She reached out to touch a Barrett M82 sniper rifle, her fingers caressing the cold metal with a kind of reverence.

Meanwhile, Al's reaction was something else entirely. He lifted a bag of cocaine and scrutinized it. "This can be a fantastic ingredient for potions." He looked at me with an excited glint in his eyes.

I shifted uncomfortably, my stomach twisting in knots. The money I'd left behind didn't even cover a tenth of what I took, and now the full weight of what I'd stumbled upon sank in. I had suspected it earlier, but the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. "I think I robbed a criminal organization," I muttered, my voice thick with unease.

Mahya, still giddy with excitement, barely noticed my tension. "This is the score of a lifetime," she said, her eyes gleaming. "We're set for a long time, guys."

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering unease. "Yeah," I mumbled, though my mind was still racing. "Set for a long time."

It was time to move on from Vegas, and fortunately, there were only two last deliveries left to handle. Once those arrived, we changed our glamour, visited the casinos for which we had the chips, gambled a bit, and cashed everything out.

I returned the rented Jeep, purchased our own, and we hit the road. Vegas had been an adventure, but it was time to move on. On the drive out of the city, I thought about how much I loved my Luck and trusted it not to have a backlash. But just in case, we all changed glamours and documents.

It's better to be on the safe side.

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